


seizing opportunity right where it lies

by stronghold



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, canon-typical plotting, post MAG 33
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21816742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stronghold/pseuds/stronghold
Summary: Elias has a funding problem. Jon has concerns about the Lukas family.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 9
Kudos: 227





	seizing opportunity right where it lies

Peter’s on shore for four hours before he goes to the Institute. 

He’s been gone for eight months, which is longer than usual, but nothing he hasn’t done before. Being in London makes him want to set out again immediately, put as much distance between himself and all the people as quickly as possible. But he has an appointment, and maybe dinner afterwards, so he steps into the static and arrives neatly in front of Elias’ desk. 

“Peter,” Elias says, not looking up. “Lovely to see you.” 

He’s felt the itch on the back of his neck since the _Tundra_ docked, so he knows that’s a true enough statement. He squints at the paperwork— grant proposals, it looks like. 

It’s a somewhat silly affectation, Peter thinks, asking various non-Fear-aligned entities for money. The Fairchilds and Lukases cover most of the Institute’s costs already, and if Elias asked he’d cover the rest; God knows he doesn’t know what to do with all the money his position affords. He knows that Elias would never ask, though. It’s too big a favor, even for him, too much dependence on one person to keep his plans running. Peter _also_ knows that’s what the divorces are for, sometimes— alimony is easier than just asking, for Elias. 

Of course, Elias Knows he knows all of this, which makes the whole ordeal something of a charade, but they’re both too stubborn to do anything about it. So Elias asks various other trusts and departments for money once a year, if only because he likes the paperwork. 

Simon called him yesterday and bet him a frankly absurd amount of money that this marriage won’t last until the end of grant-writing season, because Elias gets touchy when funding is involved, and Peter really doesn’t want to lose and have another argument with Nathaniel about 'wasting resources.' Most of what he gets if he wins will go to the Institute, anyway— either immediately or in some alimony agreement three divorces from now. 

He figures Elias Knows about the whole arrangement anyway, because he isn’t trying to hide his thoughts about it, and Elias is actually looking at him now, seeming entirely too pleased.

“I don’t see why the Institute needs so much money, anyway,” Peter says, casual. It’s a carefully proffered barb, one that would normally earn him _some_ response, even if it’s just being called a spoiled child who doesn’t understand his own finances. 

Elias just hums, turns back to his work. He definitely Knows, then, Peter decides. As long as Simon doesn’t find out, he doesn’t particularly care— the Fairchilds have money to burn, and Simon knew what he was getting into. No divorce for a while, then. 

Not that Peter has a problem with that, anyway. He likes winning bets, and he likes being married— if he didn’t, this back-and-forth would’ve ended decades ago. Besides, his patron can’t feed in the aftermath if he isn’t actually happy when they’re married, even if that contentment always eventually breaks apart under his need for isolation or Elias' need to Know. So the cycle continues, and he’s satisfied when they’re together and fed when they’re not, and Elias feeds him a steady supply of lonely statement givers regardless. It’s a system that works, and by orchestrating it Elias feeds his own God, gets his Institute funded, and has what Peter can only assume is a good time. 

“That’s somewhat harsh,” Elias says, looking at him again. “And you’re thinking too loudly.” 

“Thinking about giving a statement,” he replies, and Elias rolls his eyes. On the corner of his desk, a tape recorder clicks on. He rounds the desk, leans up against the edge. It’s as close as he can handle, right now: eight months without any human contact, so now he has to work up to a touch. 

Elias goes back to his grants, and for a few minutes the only sounds are the whir of the tape recorder and the faint high-pitched whine of the Lonely. Eventually, Elias sighs, leans back in his chair. “Jonathan— the new Archivist, you know— is coming up here. He has… some _concerns,_ regarding a certain statement.” 

“Should I leave?” Peter asks, already half-transparent. He’s not tired of the company yet, but he’ll also never turn down the opportunity to be alone. 

“No, no,” Elias tells him, waving a hand, “stay nearby. You’ll enjoy this, I think.” 

Peter nods, fog creeping over his shoulders. 

Elias reaches out, hand hovering just over his elbow. “Don’t go yet,” he says, “he’ll knock.” 

So they sit, Elias pretending to do paperwork, Peter leaning up against his desk. Elias, always fond of the parlor trick, dumps what’s happening just outside the office into Peter’s brain: the Archivist takes the stairs two at a time, realizes how breathless he is, and lingers at the end of the hallway, panting. After a minute or so, he takes his last deep breath, walks down the hall, and knocks. 

Elias grins, does some hand motion that’s halfway between a wave and a _shoo._ Peter sighs, acting appropriately put-upon, and dissolves into white noise. Privately, he thinks, acting annoyed— the eye rolls, the sighs, the static— is one of the aspects of interacting with Elias that he’s most fond of, whether they’re together or not. If he’s _acting_ irritated, it means he isn’t, not really, which is nice, even for someone who thrives on self-isolating. Besides, it’s a welcome change of pace from the fake, bland cheerfulness he’s forced into around most everyone else. 

(He only thinks this once he’s fully in the Lonely, of course. In the Institute, Forsaken is the only place where his thoughts are fully his own, and he isn’t sure if he wants Elias to know he’s in a sentimental mood.) 

“Come in,” Elias says. 

the Archivist opens the door slowly. He’s composed enough, but Peter can tell he feels the chill that the Lonely brings everywhere it goes. He shifts until he’s halfway out of Forsaken, able to be Seen but not seen, and enough to drop the temperature another degree. Elias doesn’t spare him a glance. The Archivist rubs at his forearms, crossed tightly against his chest, but doesn’t seem to notice him. 

“Elias, I—” he starts, then resets. “I just read another statement about a Lukas. I know you said not to investigate them because they’re investors, but I had… some concerns.” 

That’s why Elias wanted him to hang around, then. From Gertrude to an Archivist that doesn’t even know who the Lukases are. If only he’d waited a few more years to start the Silencing; maybe it would’ve gotten somewhere, with this as his opposition. 

“Alright,” Elias replies, voice impassive. “Is there any particular Lukas you’re concerned about, or…?” 

“The statement was regarding the captain of the _Tundra,_ Peter Lukas. It—”

Peter has to sink back into Forsaken to avoid the Archivist hearing him laugh. He should’ve expected it when Elias asked him to stay, but some hapless new Archivist coming to _Elias_ to tell him about Peter’s evils as the captain of some mysterious ship is too much. And he sounded so worried, like he thought the Institute was under the thumb of some dark family, Elias ignorant to all of it. 

When he steps back into the office, the Archivist is still talking. “And the crew list hasn’t changed in the past decade—” 

As if he was waiting for Peter to come back and witness it, Elias cuts him off. “Jon,” he says, gesturing towards the paperwork littering his desk, “as you can see, we are already desperate for funding. I can’t expect to _have_ an Institute if I call one of our primary donors to ask if a member of their family is murdering people at sea.”

“I _know_ ,” the Archivist says, then sighs. “It’s just… the similarities to the earlier Lukas case stuck out. I figured I should say something to you, in case you didn’t know.” 

“Thank you, Jon, honestly,” Elias says, and Peter snickers. “I’ll look into it myself. Now, if that’s all?” 

“Yes, that’s all,” the Archivist answers, though he doesn’t look happy about it. “I’ll stop looking into it.” 

“I’d appreciate it. See you Monday.” 

Then the Archivist is gone, and Peter comes back into view, static humming. “There’s statements about me?” He asks. “I’m flattered.” 

“Don’t be. We don’t need your ego getting any bigger.” 

Peter laughs again, because the idea of someone seeing him not as a Lukas, not as a servant of the Lonely, but as some horrible near-mythical creature is more appealing than he’d thought it’d be. Maybe that’s the real appeal of the Eye, he thinks. Knowing how everyone sees _you,_ and just how wrong they are. 

Elias must like that thought or his laugh, because he risks the first touch, running his hand up the side of Peter’s face. “You need a haircut,” he says. 

“Can we get dinner first?” 

“Only if you’re paying for it.” 

“Fairchild’s paying for it,” Peter replies, and Elias smiles, and Peter thinks he can bear a few months of this.


End file.
